Let's Go Softly
by With A Smile
Summary: Drabbles of the Bleach variety. Request one! #3/ Hollow Ichigo is done with plain old nighttime prowling. Poor Ichigo.
1. Homecoming

**A/N: **Reuploaded. First time I had to take it down because FFN was being glitchy with me. Then when I was about to reupload this I reread my first chapter and wisely decided to spend some time reworking it. So in it's place, I have this one. What follows is the previous A/N.

--

Latest obsession has got to be Bleach. SO. AMAZING. Just to exercise my rusty writing skills, let's see how this goes. A drabble idea I thought of.

I have some ideas lined up for other drabbles, but if you'd like, feel completely free to drop me a request. I'd like to test my writing abilities that way. It can be something as simple as a character name and a word, or a more full-bodied idea. And for the record, I can do any pairing at all. Crack/yaoi/yuri/canon, s'all good :D

(I guess these might turn out a smidge longer than your average drabble.)

**Summary: **'It's been awhile, Ichigo.' It's not always easy to say the right things, but sometimes the right things don't need to be said.  
(On Rukia, Ichigo, and finally coming home.)  
**Characters: **Ichigo x Rukia. Moar powah to the IchiRuki.  
**Disclaimer:** (Applicable to all chapters.) Kubo Tite owns Bleach. I'd be lucky to have some hair dye of my own.

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**Chapter One - Homecoming  
**(by with a smile.)

At first, Ichigo had thought it was some form of a twisted practical joke.

After all, all of the dreams that had haunted him night after night once he returned to the physical world (without Rukia, which was a decidedly unfamiliar feeling) had all contained some form of a dramatic re-entrance of the shinigami he had come to know as his nakama into his life. So naturally he thought at first that he'd finally cracked under the strain of a normal life and was finding his dream world leaking into his vision of reality and manifesting itself in the form of the images of Renji, Matsumoto, Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Hitsugaya standing in his classroom doorway.

Frankly, it was difficult enough registering that they were standing there, actually _talking_ to him, that these bodies contained souls that he considered his friends. However, his slightly slack-jawed reaction to them was nothing compared to when he heard a soft _whap_ from behind, amplified by his own jumpy nerves and suppressed hopes and wishes, of a secret desire he wouldn't share with anybody, even with himself (too bad it had awakened and was stirring in his heart, thanks to the appearance of Team Hitsugaya).

He spun around instantly and still managed to feel like he was going far too slowly, that he was never going to reach that moment when he would lay his eyes again on the one shinigami who he wanted back the most.

His breath stopped dead in his chest, his heart freezing with his eyes locked onto hers, and it was as if the moment was stilled, that everybody else's movements were light-years and eons behind his own thought process, which was pattering out garbled messages of disbelief at a hyperspeed-like pace. No one could move quickly enough to interrupt this moment, and for that second that may as well have been a lifetime, they were the only two people in the classroom, they were the only two people on the planet, and all that mattered was him and her, and gazes that met and ignited a fire inside him that had long since remained dormant.

And he wanted to say something, anything, to voice how he was feeling, but his throat didn't agree, thick as it was with unnamed emotions, and his voice was lengthy in the coming (everything was working so painstakingly slowly).

For all those thousands of words he wanted to say, he could only stare and hope that his eyes would say what his mouth (and heart) could not.

He knew that she saw nothing else too, that for her the classroom consisted of no one else but him, that she too wanted to say something more, that she was meeting his gaze and reading his stare, that she _understood_ the message that his eyes were begging for her to comprehend.

And in that single moment, her gaze held a message for him as well.

_Me too, Ichigo._

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**A/N: **Thank you for reading all parts of it. Your feedback is, as always, requested and cherished :)


	2. Awakening

**A/N: **Wow, none really. Please read and I hope you enjoy!  
(Oh, and happy belated Fourth o' July to all of us Americans :D)**  
Prompt:** 'Does this outfit look good on me?' HitsuHina. For the marvelous Defining Aerith.**  
Summary:** 'Hitsugaya had never thought that hospital gowns looked better.' Sometimes the wait is long. Everytime you make it worth it.  
(On Hitsugaya, Hinamori, and waiting forever for the things that never change.)  
**Characters: **Hitsugaya x Hinamori.

* * *

**Chapter Two - Awakening  
**(by with a smile.)

_Shff. Shff. Shff._

Toshiro Hitsugaya shuffled back and forth, back and forth, skating across the peeling linoleum of the floor in a dizzying circle, back and forth, back and forth.

He couldn't stop pacing. If he stopped pacing, he'd be at a standstill and being at a standstill while he was this jumpy and agitated could result in sudden rash behavior, like grabbing Hinamori's shoulders and giving them a rough shake, just to get her to crack open an eye or start giggling, or _anything_.

Anything to get her to look more alive than dead again.

Her usually fair skin was nearly transparent, fading into the bedsheets like the lines that defined the outline of her body were being blurred and bled into the white sheets like water. He had to squint to see just where her body ended and began. He had to squint in order to pretend that the faded excuse for a shinigami lying there was actually his closest friend.

He felt his heart beat irregularly as he took it all in- her black hair that fanned out from her face like a darkened halo, her usually fair skin that was graying, the hollowed cheeks, the pained expression on her face, the hands the randomly clutched tightly at the sheets as her mouth that moved restlessly with the buried words of her nightmares.

Hitsugaya really just wanted to peel away that sickly top layer that was stifling the real Hinamori, the healthy Hinamori. His Hinamori.

He slumped down in a seat, hit with a sudden bout of exhaustion as he took in just how tired she looked and realized that he was pretty weary too. He had slept in the straight-backed wooden chair beside her bed for uncountable days.

He buried his face in his hands (hoping against hope that when he removed them, he'd see a view different from the landscape of his nightmares) and shut his eyes (they were begging for a temporary reprieve), only to open them to sunshine streaming through the lone window, framing Hinamori in a golden glow that didn't fit her frail state.

(Oh God, why did she look so helpless and tiny?)

_Why can't I do a damn thing??_ Hitsugaya demanded inwardly. He was so frustrated, so exasperated with just _waiting_ for her to get better. Why couldn't he do something more? Why couldn't he help Hinamori like he should be able to?

(He'd never make a good knight in shining armor if this kept up.)

"Hn…" the voice startled him, and he spun around, his shihakushou flaring out around him as he stared at the bed in disbelief.

(How could something so small and fragile make any sound at all?)

"H-Hinamori!" Hitsugaya cried, too relieved to even bother trying to sound like he was in a grumpy mood.

"Hitsu… gaya…" she murmured, her voice nothing more than a diminutive rasp, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a weak smile as he rushed over, forcing the urge to crow with joy down. She still looked asleep and the same, aside from the tender smile that replaced her agonized expression of earlier.

"Have some water," Hitsugaya grabbed a glass off of the nightstand and handed it to her, trying his best to be gentle even in his excitement.

"Thanks." She raised the glass to her lips but found her hand quivering with the effort. Hitsugaya found himself quickly leaning over and tipping the water into her mouth, without a second thought. Hinamori smiled gratefully and sighed, refreshed. Hitsugaya glanced downwards, slightly embarrassed by his behavior. He was acting like a lovesick fool, as if he was doting on his wife with all the ridiculous tenderness and care of an old married couple.

"What… happened?" her voice was rusty with disuse, and she cleared her throat feebly.

"Huh? Oh, now's not the time. I'm sure you'll be informed later, when you're feeling better." Hitsugaya tried his best to sound cold, but he couldn't help but turn his head around to look at her reaction.

"… I see." She didn't sound like she had the energy to argue the matter. She cracked open an eye just enough to be able to glance downwards. "Hmm… does this outfit look good on me, Shiro-chan?" the good humor was apparent in her voice as she examined the bland, shapeless gray gown she was swallowed up in- it looked like it was meant more for Zaraki than for Hinamori.

Hitsugaya had never thought that hospital gowns looked better.

Hinamori squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them both fully, though she shut them immediately with a squeak as the brilliant sunshine (Hitsugaya wondered why it suddenly looked so much brighter and more radiant than before) left her temporarily blinded.

But it wasn't quick enough for Hitsugaya to miss the look in her eyes. They were the one part of her that hadn't changed- those dark chocolate eyes still looked every bit as lively and playful and caring as they had when Hitsugaya had first seen Hinamori, with her eyes radiating all things warm and friendly- the complete opposite side of the spectrum to his frosty teal eyes that screamed words of don't-come-near-mes and I-don't-need-yous.

And it made him feel so much better, safer, calmer, knowing that those eyes, they hadn't changed, and that he hadn't been waiting around for nothing. It was those same toffee-brown eyes that after he took one look into he never felt quite the same again, because past or present, it only took one warm glance from those bright, shining eyes and--

--_fatality._


	3. Purity

**A/N: **And with this chapter, the rating is officially T xD (If you get queasy at the mention of sexual deeds, I'm afraid this chapter isn't for you. But I swear, it's pretty light stuff.)  
(And by the way... I heard about Rukia's questionable literary choices somewhere else. I swear it wasn't me. But I had to include them, of course :D)  
**Prompt:** 'Hollow Ichigo.' For the lovable auburn-haired-sadist-XD.  
**Summary:** Hollow Ichigo is done with plain old nighttime prowling. Poor Ichigo.  
(On Hollow Ichigo, Ichigo, hidden sides to inner demons, and some very dirty thoughts.)  
**Characters:** Ichigo, Hollow Ichigo, Rukia. (Relax, it's yaoi and threesome-free.)

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**Chapter Three** - **Purity  
**(by with a smile.)

"Ichigo! Would you come here and poke the straw into the juicebox for me?" Rukia waved her Passionfruit-flavored juicebox around in supreme irritation. "You humans and your little devices are so ridiculous, you know that?" (Apparently, the previous thorough fascination with juiceboxes had long since caved in favor of utter frustration with impossibly small pokey-holes.)

**Sure, I'll punch a hole into **_**your**_** juicebox, if you know what I'm saying.**

_Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up._

"Stop whining, I'm coming." Ichigo snarled, trying his best to sound venomous at Rukia for interrupting his terribly important study time. Even if his inner man was relishing a chance to show off some masculinity and basic male superiority as well as a chance to escape from the throes of numerical horror under the sugarcoated title of calculus.

And even if there was a monster (and he wasn't referring to the conventional Hollow aspect of it) residing comfortably within his brain.

"This is way too complex," Rukia chucked the juicebox at him (missing in a spectacular fashion) as Ichigo made his way across the veritable mountains of clothes scattering the floor, shaking her head.

**Hey baby, I can make it real simple. I'll just poke my straw in and…**

_I SAID SHUT UP, DAMMIT!_

Ichigo snatched up the juicebox from the floor, trying not to show just how rattled he was. Anti-Ichigo (as Ichigo liked to refer to him) was being particularly restless and talkative tonight- usually he only bothered Ichigo with his "needs" in his dreams.

(Yes, those dreams really did exercise the imagination, to say the least.)

"Here," he replied tightly, jabbing a hole into the juicebox before jerking an arm out and flinging it back at Rukia, who looked startled at his rough movement and strangled tone of voice.

"Ichigo? Are you okay? You seem stressed." She glanced at him, tearing her eyes away for a second from _Gloria Star: Midnight Ebullience._

(Somehow, Rukia's reading choice never did go questioned. Maybe it was because Ichigo knew that he'd find himself kidou-ed to the next century and beyond.)

(Too bad that Anti-Ichigo was having a field day imagining all the ways Gloria Star could be so ebullient.)

"Uh huh, yeah, just leave me alone." Ichigo snapped.

_Stop acting so stiff,_ he reprimanded himself slightly. The last thing he wanted was to have Rukia suspicious of anything.

**Hey man, the stiffness can't be helped.**

_Get the hell out of my head already!_ Ichigo had to resist swatting the air around his head furiously, as if the turbulence in the atmosphere might blow Not-Ichigo out.

"Ah, so it's long division today, is it? Or did you just forget to carry the one?" Rukia smirked, taking a vicious sip of her juice. She never did respond well to being snapped at. Ichigo ignored her, preoccupied as he was with ignoring someone else.

(Oh God, why did the sight of her sucking on that straw make him feel so uncomfortably warm?)

**Hey Rukia, you can long divide me any day.**

_Shut up. Just shut the hell up._

"Whatever." Ichigo slouched back across the room and settled down in front of his desk. Good. Sitting down. Sitting down was good for hiding stiff-no, for easing _soreness._

**Why do you deny it? And you call yourself King! You're a cowardly bastard, you know?**

_No. No. You're just twisted._

**Somebody hasn't hit puberty yet…**

_Fuck you._

**Yeah, I wish. **

…

**You keep me so contained here… I'm going crazy. You have needs too, man. Fulfill them. Be Rukia's king.**

_I am not letting you indulge in voyeurism at my expense._

**Don't act like you're so different from me. We're the same person, aren't we? We have the same thoughts and… feelings.**

_I'm not that kind of guy, dammit! You're the horny freak around here._

**That hurts, _Majesty_. Just so you know, I'm not horny- I'm only your most primal instincts personified.**

_Go away. __I have multi-variable calculus to deal with._

**I think Rukia wants multiple variables, if you know what I mean.**

_No. _

**Aw, come on. I know what goes on in that head of yours. I know that you have desires.**

_There's a reason Rukia sleeps in the closet and I sleep in the main room. So that we're s-e-p-a-r-a-t-e-d._

**Ahh, I get it. You like to cage her up, do you? That's fine, S&M works for me too.**

…

Ichigo and rubbed his eyes and yawned, even though he'd never felt so awake and jumpy. He refused to think of Anti-Ichigo or of any of the things he'd said.

(Somehow, every time he looked at Rukia all he could think of was…)

(_Never mind._)

Pushing back his chair, Ichigo stretched, attempting to go for a sleepy look. Multi-variable calculus could wait- right now, he really needed to get far, far away from Rukia. Or any female, for that matter. Or anything that moved.

"Where're you going?" she asked as he stood up and headed for the door.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

Yes, a shower. That was exactly what he needed. A very long, _very_ cold, shower.

After all, it was inexplicably becoming stiflingly hot in here.


End file.
